Pirate's Code, or . . .?

     Many of us who've watched the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies have enjoyed the references to the "Pirate's Code".  It appears early on in the first movie when heroine Elizabeth Swann tells her pirate captors that she demands the "Right of Parlay", invoking the Code of the Pirate Brethren; she demands to speak with the captain - Captain Barbossa it turns out.  Barbossa's men honor the Code's demands, and Barbossa speaks with Miss Swan.  Later on in the movie, however, when again he confronts Miss Swann but is "disinclined to acquiesce to her request" that the pirates leave the vicinity, he subsequently circumvents the Code, pointing out, "the Code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules".  Miss Swann "gets it", when in a later movie, she tells the pirates "Hang the Code and hang the rules!  They're more like guidelines anyway!"     That phrase has weaseled its way into a lot of everyday language over the last ten years.  And it has been applied to all sorts of rules, including religious rules that seem a bit inconvenient or outdated.  In this I'm reminded of the phrase used any number of years ago, "They're the Ten Commandments!  Not the Ten Suggestions!"  And it sprang to mind last week when reader-of-this-newsletter "R" sent in a suggestion for a column/reflection:  "I shake my head in disgust whenever I read or hear about so-called religious leaders who practice cafeteria religion by picking and choosing bible verses to support their narrow views."  I'm not precisely sure to which "religious leaders" "R" is referring, but in my experience, it could be folks on either the left or the right!  And such "cafeteria religion" is not confined to those who would choose "bible verses"; I've heard plenty of Muslim leaders complain about others who treat the Q'uran in the same way.        My suspicion is that this is a problem endemic in any religious tradition that holds an (ancient) sacred text to be authoritative.  Most of us, I think, engage in such "cafeteria" behavior depending on our cultures, or hopes and fears.  The situation may be one in which we disregard one text in favor of another -- I can think of divine commands in the Hebrew Bible to observe certain feasts (Exodus 12.14, 17), which are then countermanded through the 8th-century prophet Amos:  "I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies" (Amos 5.21).  Certainly context is to be considered!  But, either verse can be extracted as "divine will".  A different situation might be simply ignoring a command.  For example, opponents of homosexual behavior often point to two passages in Leviticus (18.22 and 20.13).  I've rarely seen, however, critiques against shaving or tattooes made with the same virulence, if at all (Lev. 19.27, 28).  Many Christians bristle at the idea of "Christian communism" as suggested in the book of the Acts of the Apostles (2.43-45).  Similarly, many believers (and I suppose not of just Christianity), soften the impact of some commands by interpreting them as metaphors (I wrote my dissertation on that phenomenon!).         And it goes on.  Biblical permission, or assumption, of polygamy is "hushed" up in our current social setting.  The same can be said for the institution of slavery.  Both polygamy and slavery are generally seen as out-dated institutions at the least, and barbaric and unthinkable -- even ungodly -- at the most.  Yet the stories of the biblical patriarchs -- those whom God chose and instructed -- are suffused with both institutions.  So are the stories "rules"?  "Guidelines"?  Or something else?       As I suggested above, I think this is a phenomenon of which we're all guilty in one way or another.  Most of us struggle to make sense of what "being in relationship with the divine" might entail.  Some of us want concrete certainty, precise rules at all times and in all places.  Others of us are more comfortable with ambiguity.  Some of us believe that "Truth" was discovered or revealed once, recorded, and is to be followed eternally without wavering.  Others believe there is no such thing as "Truth".  And still others of us believe that we are constantly on the prowl for the nuances of "Truth", if such might be found at all.      So I'm not sure I'd "shake my head in disgust" at such cafeteria religion; I'd have to shake my head with disgust every time I look in the mirror.  I can't do that, or I'd never leave the bathroom.  All I can do is approach my neighbors humbly, trusting that they are searching in good faith for the same kind of meaning in life as I.  I may be wrong about that assessment, but I don't want to think so.

Blessings,

Chaplain Gary

What have you got on? Your mind?

      No, this isn't one of those "punctuation is important" lessons!  Nor is it a variation of the Facebook status update question.  (Although I have often wondered why an "Update Status" prompt is followed by "What's on your mind?"  Is my "status" only related to what I'm thinking?????)  No, the "title phrase" this week was one of the things my dad would ask when I would come to him with a quizzical look on my face.  Must've been a northern mid-western witticism.
      So I'm borrowing my dad's phrase to pose the question to YOU, the loyal (or even sometime) readers of these meditation/reflections.  I am often asked "How do you come up with something every week?"  And I really have no answer other than, "I pay attention to the news, to things I read/hear, and to miscellaneous, mysterious, inner promptings ("the still small voice . . ."?).  I am often asked much the same question at book discussions: "How do you choose the books for the group?"  The answer, likewise, is much the same.  With the book discussions, however, I'm often given some book suggestions by the questioner . . . and those suggestions have turned into future discussions that benefit many.
       Maybe it's the difference between face-to-face conversation and the written e-word, but I've not really received any "requests" or "questions" that have formed the basis for these (mostly) weekly ramblings.  There may be some good reasons for that, but I wouldn't want one to be "Well, you never asked!"  So, I'm hoping that, either by return email, or by comment on the blog-site, folks might share a "ponder-ment".  I never (well, hardly ever) intend to offer a definitive statement, but I DO love to share a "wonder", an "I'm curious about" or 'What do YOU think?"
        So, fill in the bubble above (figuratively speaking).  Ask a question!  Share a quotation to spur my own cogitation.  Be provocative!  Challenge ME to be provocative! Send me an email (gary.brower@du.edu), give me a call (303-871-4488), leave a comment on the blog-site, or stop me on campus (look for the hat!).
        I believe that God speaks to, comforts, and challenges us through many means and voices.  Take the opportunity!

Blessings,

Chaplain Gary

Lions, Children & Giraffes, Oh My!

 

     Some folks who read this may know that I teach an Honors Seminar every winter called "Pets, Partners or Pot-roast."  We start by exploring how science, religion and philosophy distinguish between humans and other animals, and then we turn to areas where the paws meet the road:  animals and the environment, animals in research, animals as livestock, animals in service, animals as pets, and animals as food.  It's a WONDERFUL class, and students always ask thought-provoking questions AND, I hope, leave at the end of the quarter thinking in ways that they'd never imagined.
      We always start the class by reviewing the week's news -- that is, the animals in the news.  There is always something, from arguments over the Endangered Species Act, to crazy cat-hoarding women (and research shows, that it IS usually women who hoard animals*), to the Westminster Dog Show to Punxsatawny Phil to the non-olympic event of dog-catching in Sochi.  I find myself combing the news for these kinds of stories; the students are more likely to "bump" into them.  So it was somewhat surprising (but maybe not), that many came to class this last week all primed to talk about Marius the Giraffe.
      In case you've been in an "animal-free bubble" for the last week, on Sunday, February 9th, workers at the Copenhagen Zoo shot a healthy 2-yr-old giraffe named Marius, butchered it and fed pieces to the lions -- all in full view of the public.  Outrage ensued.  Zoo officials argued (basically) that Marius was not beneficial to the giraffe gene pool, and that he was taking up, therefore, (financial) resources that could be better directed elsewhere. Opponents claimed that there hadn't been enough done to find Marius a new home, or that some other solution had not been sought vigorously enough.
       The class was pretty much aligned with those who opposed Marius' execution.  But we had just come away, the previous week, discussing the pros and cons of zoos/aquariums, and we were launching, this week, into a discussion of animals in research.  So the Marius-story was a great hinge-pin.  If one of a zoo's purposes is to do research, then wasn't the elimination (and use of body parts for research) of Marius in keeping with that purpose?  If another of the purposes is to maintain a healthy population, wasn't Marius' death aiding that purpose?  On the other hand, is it really beneficial to animals to keep them caged (regardless of the splendiforousness of the cage)?  And, gosh, "They shouldn't have done all that messy work in front of the public -- especially the children!"  "But, why not, that's sort of what happens in the wild.  Should we shield the public from the law of the jungle?"
        According to an editorial in the Chicago Tribune, the zoo's scientific director "expressed puzzlement that no one complains when the zoo culls goats, antelopes or wild boar.  But those animals are commonly harvested for the table, which giraffes are not."  In our class, too, we often run into the divide between what are known as "charismatic megafauna" (i.e., cute big animals -- like a giraffe, chosen, of course, as the mascot for Toys R Us) and others, for whom the "yuck factor" is great (like rats).  So we are always confronted by the strange, often irrational, choices we make about what/who we value and what/who we do not.
       When the students were asked, in their first paper, to write about how they (as individuals) draw the line between humans and non-human animals, they always have either chosen scientific distinctions (like brain capacity, or evolutionary order) or philosophical categories (such as moral agency).  It is situations like Marius' that throw into sharp relief how simple categorization doesn't work; neither science nor philosophy can explain this dilemma adequately.  Nor, truth be told, can religion.  But my experience is that any religion, at its best, demands that we confront our preconceived notions and easy answers, and recognize the complexity of it all.  And then, perhaps, with greater humility, we can respond with greater compassion . . . not only to our animal neighbors, but our human ones as well.

Blessings,

Chaplain Gary

* Herzog, Hal. Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat:  Why It's So Hard to Think Straight About Animals (HarperCollins, 2010), 138-41.

I admit it . . .

       . . . I didn't watch the end of the Super Bowl.  I didn't see the now-famous "Puppy Love" commercial (although I did watch it ahead of time).  No, like many, I couldn't bear to watch the end of the debacle in East Rutherford.  As far as I was concerned, the outcome had been decided and my watching (or not watching) wasn't going to change it, despite the fact that I was wearing a Broncos' "Time to Ride" orange shirt.  My hopes and garments were insufficient to alter the results.  But that didn't change my sense of disappointment when I saw the final score.

       Yesterday morning, Neil Rosenthal, a therapist AND columnist for The Denver Post, wrote a piece titled "Why you also feel at a loss when your team loses".  He suggested that we "treat our sports team as a spiritual and transcendent experience.  We spend countless hours studying the team . . .  The reason we personalize this so much is that we assign to our team attributes we want in ourselves, and the team becomes both a metaphor and a symbol for the larger story of our lives."  He concludes that "Whether you recognize it or not, you were not only rooting for the Broncos.  You were also rooting for yourself."

        I agree with most of Mr. Rosenthal's analysis (he's a licensed therapist after all, and I'm not!).  But I would like to add a nuance that isn't really apparent in the column.   Many years ago (and I may have related this story here before), I was working on my certificate in Clinical Pastoral Education . . . one of the requirements in many religious traditions for ordination.  One of my course-mates found himself on the receiving end of some accusations of improper behavior at one of the congregations he was serving.  He was adamant that he was innocent of the charges (and I suspect he was, although a bit naive of congregational dynamics).  What was equally devastating to him was that the charges were coming from within the congregation.  He was shocked that a religious community, founded on love and trust, would treat him so poorly.  While there was certainly a LOT of material to sift through as we dealt with his situation, one thing was apparent to me:  his ideal of the Church had just been dealt a lethal blow; a dream had died.  And he was going to have to go through a grieving process.

      To use Mr. Rosenthal's logic, my friend "lost" whatever he had personally invested in his vision/ideal of the Church.  And, so as the vision was dealt a blow, so was he.  And I think we ALL have that experience, whether its the loss of an ideal, or the loss of a game by a favorite sports team.  But simple knowledge of the reason for the sense of loss by itself is a bit unsatisfying.  Where's the hope?

       I remember working with that colleague those years back on re-establishing a more realistic vision of the tradition in which he was laboring.  That re-imagined vision was more flexible, more forgiving, than the one that he had lost.  It provided more movement -- yes, less certainty -- but also more grace, more hope.  It was living, not calcified.  It took some time for us to get there, but the work was worth it.

       So, yes, I admit it.  I changed channels last Sunday night.  It wasn't the first time, nor will it be the last.  I've seen a lot of my favorite (and favored) teams get pasted, and have turned away.  But I don't lose hope; I'm not embarrassed.  I remember that I am watching a contest in which "victory" can be measured in many different ways, not just by the final score.  That's a different vision, seen through a different lens.  But one that will have me turn the TV on for the next game, and re-don my orange (or green, or crimson) shirt to watch how men and women of character can inspire me.

Blessings,

Chaplain Gary